Spiritus Sanctus

Friday of Week 7 in Ordinary Time (Year I)
Ecclesiasticus 6:5-17 | Psalm 118(119):12,16,18,27,34-35 | Mark 10:1-12

Today’s reading goes on at length about what makes a good friend, and I’ve had cause during the past two days to dwell on this very subject.

Yesterday, I met my old friend and business partner for lunch, over which we debated all kinds of stuff from artificial hearts to combat aircraft. If you sat in on one of our conversations, I think you’d get lost fairly quickly, as we’ve done this for literal decades.

Then we got down to work, and we rapidly ended up in “adversarial” mode, each challenging the other’s assertions about how best to solve a particular problem. If you sat in on that, you’d probably think blood was about to be spilled on both sides. We deliberately put our friendship on the line every day, because we’ve both agreed that this was the surest route to the most bulletproof deliverables.

Rinse and repeat six days a week – Sundays are for the Lord, after all.

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My meeting with an ex-colleague the day before…wasn’t as productive.

I’d been a consultant for his firm before, and helped him develop a software product almost 15 years ago, that is still being marketed today (though much-modified and under new management). He was therefore very familiar with my technical abilities, and occasionally called on me to advise his team on deep technical matters.

What he wanted me to help with this time, thought, was beyond even my “vaunted” abilities. In a nutshell, he was caught between a government tender and a European software partner who had serious problems delivering on their agreement. We talked for a long time, before coming to the conclusion that the only things I could do for him…would all violate his partner’s intellectual property, and expose me to legal and financial retribution.

But if I didn’t help out, his company was in grave danger of having liquidated damages imposed, despite their best efforts to deliver on their contract. That would cripple the company, and force him to wind it up and let his employees go.

Though the proper course of action was clear, it was still really hard to tell him “no”.

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In contrast, the Lord has always been a true friend, always ready to listen to my woes, and point the right way forward. I just haven’t always been in a listening or talking mood, but I’m working on paying more attention to Him in my daily life.

As one King sang long ago about another King:

He is always there, hearing every prayer
Faithful and true
Walking by our side, in His love we hide
All the day through
When you get discouraged
Just remember what to do
Reach out to Jesus
He’s reaching out to you

Amen.

Thursday of Week 7 in Ordinary Time (Year I)
Saint Polycarp, Bishop, Martyr
Ecclesiasticus 5:1-10 | Psalm 1:1-4,6 | Mark 9:41-50

And if your hand should cause you to sin, cut it off; it is better for you to enter into life crippled, than to have two hands and go to hell, into the fire that cannot be put out. (Mark 9:43)

I was walking to a meeting yesterday, and happened to pass through the basement of Ngee Ann City, when I boggled at this advertisement:

“If there’s no candy in heaven, I’m not going.” WHA?!?!

I get that it’s a tongue-in-cheek inducement to a candy coma, but it got me thinking: What would make me not want to go to heaven?

The obvious answer: Nothing. We believe that we will be reunited with Our Father in heaven one day, to sing His praises forever.

So why do we still allow ourselves the secular luxuries of avarice, envy, wrath, sloth, gluttony, lust, and pride?

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We may snicker at Jesus’ solemn pronouncement that we should cripple our bodies than fall prey to sin. We may think guiltily to ourselves, “He’s kidding, right?”

Yet sometimes it’s the pain of denying ourselves that which leads us away from the Almighty, which helps us focus on our future with God.

We’ve heard of the many saints who practiced mortification for spiritual discipline, from St. Francis of Assisi to St. Ignatius of Loyola, from St. Catherine of Siena to St. Thérèse of Lisieux.

I once slammed my hand against a table to stop myself from reaching for yet another fragrant helping of bulgogi. I got The Look from my old friend, and when I explained my action to him, he grinned evilly and asked me to let him know next time, so that he could, in the name of charitable discipline…

ENOUGH ALREADY!

Or was it “I’ll stab you through the hand with my chopsticks”?

Behold the instruments of thy DOOM!

I’d rather not remember.

✞ ✞ ✞ ✞ ✞

Lent will soon be upon us. It’s a good time to take a hard look at our decadent lives, honestly ask ourselves what we can live without, and Just Get Rid Of It.

Then we won’t have to worry about missing eyes and limbs in the afterlife.

Amen.

Saint Peter’s Chair
1 Peter 5:1-4 | Psalm 22(23) | Matthew 16:13-19

Tonight, I’ll be chairing my last parish Liturgical Committee meeting. It’s been a quiet two-year tenure, mostly because liturgical functions aren’t really open to much debate or innovation.

It certainly wasn’t as eventful as St. Peter’s time as first among the apostles. None of the aspects of the faith we practice today had been codified at that point; St. Peter had to get the Christian ball rolling, and defend it against the Sanhedrin twice, eventually being flogged for his troubles before embarking on his missionary journey to Rome and his martyrdom.

Me, I just took a 2-year Sunday stroll in a local park.

I hope I made a difference, or at least didn’t make matters worse. Now that we’ll have a new parish priest, it’s a good time to get off this chair and continue with my own liturgical duties.

That said, I can’t help but recall Jesus’ last words to Peter in John’s gospel:

‘I tell you most solemnly, when you were young you put on your own belt and walked where you liked; but when you grow old you will stretch out your hands, and somebody else will put a belt round you and take you where you would rather not go.’ (John 21:18)

Lord, as I relinquish this chair, help me take stock of what I learned from this experience, and apply it to whatever You want me to do next. You are Wisdom, Lord, and I know nothing. Amen.

Tuesday of Week 7 in Ordinary Time (Year I)
Saint Peter Damian, Bishop, Doctor
Ecclesiasticus 2:1-11 | Psalm 36(37):3-4,18-19,27-28,39-40 | Mark 9:30-37

‘Anyone who welcomes one of these little children in my name, welcomes me; and anyone who welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.’ (Mark 9:37)

I spent over two hours on the phone and WhatsApp with a client yesterday, trying to debug what should’ve been a simple network setup issue. We were getting nowhere, until I thought to ask him to check something fundamental that I’d assumed had been configured correctly.

It hadn’t.

ARGH!

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Children have a way of cutting through complexity and getting to the heart of whatever matter is before them. Without many preconceptions, they often notice things we “wise” adults blindly pass over.

We could stand to be childlike in our approach to God. Rather than trying to quantify the depth of our sin, and inadvertently convince ourselves that we are unworthy to be forgiven, we should draw close to God with a simple wish, “Father, I have sinned. Help me find my way.”

So as we prepare to enter the season of Lent, let us come to the confessional in hope and faith, that Christ comes to meet us in the person of His priest, to absolve us, to free us, to love us.

And let us come back again next month, and the month after that, until Reconciliation becomes as regular as the breath of a child, rather than gasping and wheezing as we adults tend to.

Amen.

Monday of Week 7 in Ordinary Time (Year I)
Ecclesiasticus 1:1-10 | Psalm 92(93):1-2,5 | Mark 9:14-29

A man answered [Jesus] from the crowd, ‘Master, I have brought my son to you; there is a spirit of dumbness in him, and when it takes hold of him it throws him to the ground, and he foams at the mouth and grinds his teeth and goes rigid. And I asked your disciples to cast it out and they were unable to.’
[…] When [Jesus] had gone indoors his disciples asked him privately, ‘Why were we unable to cast it out?’ ‘This is the kind’ he answered ‘that can only be driven out by prayer.’ (Mark 9:17-18,28-29)

Yesterday, as I boarded the bus home from church, and made my way to the back, I beheld a young man in T-shirt and shorts, slouching in his seat, staring into space, with his sandaled feet propped up on the seat opposite him.

I took the seat across the aisle from him, thinking, “What an uncivil person!” I also noticed the middle-aged man sitting across from him, peering intently at the “offensive” young man. “I guess someone else noticed too!”

At the next stop, the middle-aged man stood up, reached over…and grabbed the young man by the arm, pulling him to his feet. I watched in amazement as the elder shepherded the younger towards the exit door, and I suddenly realized that I was thinking unkind thoughts about an intellectually disabled person, not a deliberate lout as I’d assumed.

I had a bitter taste in my mouth for the next few minutes.

✞ ✞ ✞ ✞ ✞

I’ve noticed a growing synchronicity between each day’s scripture, and my earthly experiences from the day before. It’s probably a case of the Good News shaping my reaction to events around me, and making me more aware of my surroundings.

Anyway, you can clearly see how today’s gospel resonated with my unfortunate encounter, except the “spirit” to be cast out of me is my tendency to jump to conclusions on limited data.

Clearly, all the mental exercises and “notes to self” I’ve tried to this point haven’t worked. Oddly, I haven’t tried prayer…

Jesus, help me to stop getting ahead of myself, to pause and reflect and look and listen before rushing to judgement. You who are the Divine Mercy, source of all love and compassion. Amen.